


nail polish

by not_the_marimba



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, the world needed more nail painting fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:00:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_the_marimba/pseuds/not_the_marimba
Summary: Richard can't figure out why he likes getting his nails done by Jared so much.





	nail polish

**Author's Note:**

> This is for omgfandomfeels, for the SV winter exchange. I hope you like it!Thanks carrot-gallery for organizing it!

“Hold still.” 

“Sorry.” Richard bites his lip and shifts in his chair. “I’m just, um. Not used to it.”

“It’s fine,” Jared says, applying one last stroke of clear polish. “Okay. Now let’s put that one under the light.” 

Richard moves his hand under the ultraviolet light, staring at his nails. Does it look like he’s wearing nail polish? God, he hopes not. Dinesh and Gilfoyle would never let him hear the end of it. 

“And… and then it’s just dry?”

“Yep!” Jared grabs his other hand, tapping the polish brush against the edge of the bottle. “Just gotta do a last coat on this one.” 

Richard lets his mind drift for a bit. It’s nice to have an excuse to not work on anything--can’t work on code if your nails are being painted. Every time Jared does his nails, he feels… safe? Happy. Like things are going well in a way he can’t quite quantify.

***

He feels bad, though, about always having to interrupt whatever Jared’s doing just to get his nails done. A few weeks later, Richard scouts out a nail salon in the neighborhood. He has to explain what he wants and that no, he doesn’t want a color, but the manicurist is chatty and kind and does his nails perfectly. 

The problem is, the feeling never kicks in. At no point does Richard feel that somewhat hazy sense of freedom from responsibility and safety that he’s always felt when Jared does his nails. It must, he thinks, be something to do with Jared. Or the garage. Probably the garage. Right. 

***

The next time the polish starts to grow out, he goes back to Jared. “Come in!” he says, motioning Richard into the garage. And Richard feels warm and happy again.

After that, though, things get out of hand. 

When work is especially hard or a client is on his last nerve, Richard finds himself absentmindedly sabotaging his nails, either gnawing at them despite the barrier of gel polish or picking it off. Jared clucks at this like an offended mother hen, but redoes each nail with care every time, and Richard gets his safe feeling again for ten minutes while Jared works. 

***

“I thought you quit biting your nails,” Monica says. 

Richard realizes he’s been worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth for the past five minutes while looking over this contract. “I, uh.” He’s not even sure how to explain what’s going on. “I did?”

“Clearly you didn’t.” She leans back in her chair, obviously not going to let this go.

“Fine,” Richard sighs. “Jared does my nails and it’s really nice and the only time I feel like work isn’t going to literally murder me, but he won’t do them unless there’s something wrong with them, so I bite them so the clear polish gets messed up and he has to do them again.” He throws his hands up and halfway through isn’t sure why he’s done it, awkwardly placing them on the table and staring down at the offending thumb nail.

“Oh,” Monica says after a moment, the way a scientist in a movie might say "eureka". “Oh.”

“What?” Richard wishes he’d gone to bed an hour ago and isn’t in the mood for guessing games. 

“Richard,” she says, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, “do you like Jared doing your nails, or do you like him holding hands with you?” 

***

The whole way home, Richard turns this idea over and over in his mind and gets himself into such a state that by the time he’s dropped off at the house he’s sprinting to the bathroom to throw up. Halfway through, he hears Jared outside the door asking if he’s alright, because of course he would. 

“I’m fine,” he yells back. “Wait, though.” May as well get this thing over with. He flushes, makes a halfhearted effort at brushing his teeth (it seems like it’d be gross and kind of disrespectful not to, given what he just did), and opens the door. Jared’s standing just outside, holding a mug of tea, clearly partway into his wind-down routine for the night. 

“Can I try something?” Richard asks, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I, um. I know it’s weird but I just need to do something to… find out.”

Jared is visibly perplexed by Richard’s vagueness, but says “Of course, Richard. Whatever you need.” 

“You should go put the tea down. Actually… actually, we should go to the garage. Yeah.” Richard sets a course, and when they get there Jared carefully shuts the door behind them and sets down his tea

“What is it, Richard?” Jared looks so concerned that Richard can’t make him wait any longer.

“So, I…” Richard realizes there’s no way he can explain this where he doesn’t sound mildly deranged for having spent months purposefully ruining his nails, so instead he just grabs Jared’s hands in his. 

He instantly feels that same relief he’s been chasing, no nail polish required. Which makes it easy to do what he’s aching to do and lean in and kiss him, quickly, chastely, almost trying to apologize as he does it. 

Jared looks shocked, and Richard opens his mouth to apologize, to blame it on the stress, but before he can Jared’s mouth is back on his, and he relaxes, smiling into the kiss.


End file.
